Passion's Mistress by Helen Bianchin Read Free Book Online Page A

of her spine.
    Her eyes sparked with visible anger, dark depths of sheer mahogany, and it
    irked her unbearably that she'd discarded her heeled sandals on entering the
    apartment, for it put her at a distinct disadvantage.
    Impossibly tall, he towered head and shoulders above her, his impeccably
    tailored suit seeming incredibly formal on a day that was usually given to
    informality and relaxation.
    Three nights ago his presence had shocked and dismayed her. Yesterday,
    she'd been momentarily numbed, grateful for the impartiality of his office.
    Now, there was no visible shield, no barrier, and she felt inordinately wary.
    'Aren't you going to ask me in?'
    He projected a dramatic mesh of elemental ruthlessness and primitive
    power, an intrinsic physical magnetism that teased her senses and rendered
    them intensely vulnerable.
    Her chin lifted fractionally, her eyes locking with his, and she caught the
    lurking cynicism evident, almost as if he guessed the path her thoughts had
    taken and was silently amused by their passage.
    'What if I refuse?' Brave words, given his sheer strength and indomitable
    will.
    'Would you prefer an amicable discussion, or have me channel everything
    through my lawyers?'
    His voice was deadly quiet, and she felt the cold clutch of fear.
    'This isn't a convenient time.' She was mad, insane to thwart him
    continually, yet she was damned if she'd meekly stand aside and allow him
    entry into the privacy of her apartment.
    His expression hardened, the assemblage of muscle and bone tautening into
    a chilling mask depicting controlled anger. 'You've just returned from
    delivering our daughter to a birthday party. How long before you need to
    collect her? An hour? Two?'
    Sheer rage rushed to the surface, destroying any semblance of restraint.
    'You've had me watched— followed ?' Words momentarily failed her. 'You
    bastard ,' she flung at last, sorely tempted to slam the door in his face, yet
    even as the thought occurred to her she negated the action as not only foolish
    but extremely dangerous.
    For one infinitesimal second his eyes leapt with icy anger, then sharpened
    and became infinitely compelling as he raked her slender frame.
    A shivery sensation feathered its way down the length of her spine as she
    fought against the intrinsic pull of his innate sexuality, and of its own
    volition her body seemed to flare into life as if ignited by some hidden
    combustible flame.
    Seven years ago she'd gone willingly into his arms, his bed, and tasted every
    sensual delight in a sexual discovery that had set her on fire, enraptured by
    an ecstasy so acute that it hadn't seemed possible such pleasure existed. A
    passionate lover, he'd teasingly dispensed with each and every one of her
    inhibitions, and taught her to become so in tune with her own sensual being
    that each time they made love it was a total conflagration of the senses.
    To deny him access to her apartment would gain absolutely nothing, and,
    drawing in a deep breath, she gathered her scattered emotions together as
    she aimed for contrived politeness.
    'Please,' Carly indicated as she gestured towards two sofas and a chair in the
    small lounge. 'Sit down.'
    Stefano chose to ignore the directive, and moved slowly across the room to
    examine a large frame containing a montage of small snapshots showing
    Ann-Marie in various stages of development from birth to as recently as a
    month ago.
    A palpable silence filled the room until it enveloped everything. A silence so
    incredibly damning that it was almost tangible.
    At long last he turned towards her, his eyes so remarkably dark that it was
    impossible to discern anything from his expression. 'Why did you choose
    not to tell me you were pregnant?' he began with deceptive softness.
    Her throat felt impossibly dry, and so constricted that she doubted if her
    larynx could cope with emitting so much as a sound. 'If I had, you would
    have hauled me back to Perth/ she said at last.
    'Indeed,' Stefano agreed.